“Can you tell us if there’s anything fun to do around here?” I wince. “Besides drink at a bar, of course.”
Unfazed by my accidental insult, she points a finger behind her, saying, “There are a few restaurants about a minute that way.” She thrusts her hand in our direction. “And there’s a Christmas tree farm with some local vendors in the empty lot over there.”
I look at Lauren and find her zipping with energy. She’s clinging to my arm, her beautiful hazel eyes blown wide.
A smile slips onto my face. “Yes, we can go.”
She spins on her heel and marches us out, bouncing with energy.
“I’ve never met anyone who loves Christmas as much as you,” I remark.
“That’s because you came down from Mount Crumpit. Here in Whoville, people like Christmas.”
I toss my head back. “I’m never going to live this down. I don’t hate Christmas, but I don’t getthisexcited to go to a Christmas tree lot.” I wave my hand up and down at her.
“Well, let me tell you, this time of year is a lot more fun when you get excited about Christmas.”
Before walking down the paved road that’s strung with lights and tinsel overhead, Lauren pauses, taking it all in with awe. I can’t blame her, the bright colors, the shining lights, the positive energy that smacks you in the face the second you see it, all adds up to a sight that can take your breath away, but it still pales in comparison to the sight of Lauren now and always.
God, I can’t believe I’m here with her right now. I wrap an arm around her waist, and she sidles up into my side with a shy smile that sets my cheeks ablaze.What the hell?I’ve never blushed with a woman before. I’ve always known exactly what to say and what to do, but with Lauren, I can’t calculate every move, nor do I want to. I like getting to just be me when I’m with her.
“So, Little Miss Whoville, where do we start?”
She takes in the dozen or so booths surrounding us before grabbing my hand and darting toward a stand with hot chocolate. I buy us each a drink, Lauren a peppermint hot chocolate, and me an original.
With her paper cup in one hand and my palm in the other, she drags me from booth to booth. Vendors sell Christmas ornaments, fresh-baked cookies, homemade fir-scented soaps and candles, and even hand-carved wooden Santas. Lauren buys something from nearly every one.
“How are you going to explain all your souvenirs to your parents? Are you going to tell them you bought them from the AAA guy?” I tease.
“Of course not. If it comes up, I’ll say I bought them in Tulsa. I had to support all the local businesses. I’m a business owner too. I get how difficult it is.”
We reach the end of the aisle, and Lauren tugs me into the fenced-in tree lot.
“You understand what it’s like to be passionate about your business and to try to make a name for yourself,” Lauren says. “You’ve taken ownership in the bar. It’s not that different.”
Lauren releases my hand to inspect one of the Christmas trees to our right.
I take advantage of the distraction, muttering, “Yeah, I guess so.”
Lauren turns back to me, scrunching her nose. “You guess so?”
“I don’t know. The bar isn’t exactly what I’d call a passion. It’s more an opportunity I was presented with that I’m trying to take advantage of.”
“What do you mean?” She slowly moves to the next tree.
I scratch the back of my head, wincing. “I care about proving to myself that I’m responsible, and I’d love to run a business I had a role in building, but the bar means little to me.”
“Then why on earth would you try to take ownership of it?”
“I just told you.”
“But you could do that with anything else.” She leads the way to the next aisle.
“I got the job at the bar out of college because Aunt Carol was friends with the owner. Not too many people wanted to give me a job in Roots. It didn’t matter I was a varsity football player, college educated, and stayed out of any trouble that didn’t also involve Charlie. People still saw me as the troubled boy who came from a broken home.”
“People don’t see you like that.” Lauren shakes her head, grabbing on to my arm. “Everyone loves you. Yes, there were rumors at the start, but as far as I know, no one knows the truth. Even if they did, they wouldn’t hold it against you. People aren’t like that in our little town.”
She stands in the middle of the row of trees, taking them all in, but I can see her mulling something over. “You could’ve worked for the ranch. My dad would’ve given you a job in a heartbeat.”
